Sparks Fly
by Jack104
Summary: Enemies since childhood, preppy over-achiever Kendall and rule-breaker deliquent Kick are forced to be lab partners in Chemistry class. The results are bound to be explosive. But neither teen is prepared for the most surprising Chemical reaction of all-Love. Major Kindall. HARDCORE RATED "T"-might go up later. Not for children under the age of PG13. or i'm just being paranoid :3
1. Chapter 1

**NEW STORY!**

**Don't worry, I'm still working on "First love is a pain" but now I'm doing two KB stories at once. And they both revolve in the TEEN future.**

**And it just so happens that I have an awesome anime-twist for it.**

* * *

_**Kendall's POV**_

Everyone knows I'm perfect. My life is perfect. My clothes are perfect. Even my family is perfect. And although it's a complete lie, I've worked my butt of to keep up the appearance that I have it all. The truth, if it were to come out, would destroy my picture—perfect image.

Standing in front of my bathroom mirror while music blares from my speakers, I wipe away the third crooked line I've drawn beneath my eye. My hands are shaking, darn it. Starting senior year of high school and seeing my boyfriend after a summer apart shouldn't be so nerve wrecking, but I've gotten off to a disastrous start. First, my curling iron sent up smoke signals and died. Then the button on my favorite white top popped off. Now, my eyeliner decides it has a mind of its own. If I had any choice in the matter, I'd stay in my warm comfy bed all day.

"Kendall, come down," I faintly hear my Mother yelling from the foyer. My first instinct is to ignore her, but that never gets me anything but arguments, headaches, and more screaming.

"I'll be there in a sec," I call back down, hoping I can get this eyeliner to go on straight and be done with it.

Finally getting it right, I toss the eyeliner tube on the counter, double and triple check myself in the mirror, turn off my stereo, and hurry down the hallway.

My Mother is standing at the bottom of our grand staircase tapping her foot, and scanning my outfit.

I straighten. I know, I know. I'm eighteen and shouldn't care what my Mother thinks, but you haven't lived in the Perkins house.

When I was a kid my Mother used to live in another town, so she was absent for the majority of my childhood, but she came back to live with us two years ago and made us move to the west side of MellowBrook—you know— where the more wealthy neighborhoods are, consisting of desperate gossiping housewife's and spoiled rotten kids?

She made us move from our old neighborhood because it was, and I quote: "_too loud and filled with commoners._" You see, my Mother has anxiety. Not the kind easily controlled with little blue pills. And when my Mother is stressed, everyone living with her suffers. I think that's why Dad goes to work before she gets up in the morning, so he doesn't have to deal with, well, her.

"Hate the pants, love the belt," Mother says, pointing her index finger at each item. "And that noise you call music was giving me a headache. Thank goodness it's off."

"Good morning to you, too, Mother," I say before walking down the stairs and giving her a peck on the cheek.

The smell of her strong perfume stings my nostrils the closer I get. She already looks like a million bucks in her Ralph Lauren Blue Label tennis dress. No one can point a finger and criticize her outfit, that's for sure.

"I brought your favorite muffin for the first day of school," Mother says, pulling out a bag from behind her.

"No thanks," I say, looking around. "Where's Palm?"

"In the kitchen."

"Is her new care taker here yet?"

"Her name is Brenda, and no. she's coming in an hour."

"Did you tell her wool irritates Palms skin? And that she pulls hair?"

Palm's always let it be known in her nonverbal cues she gets irritated by the feeling of wool on her skin. Pulling hair is her new thing, and it has caused a few disasters. Disasters in the Perkins house are about as pretty as a car wreck, so avoiding them is crucial.

"Yes. And yes. I gave her an earful this morning. If she keeps acting up, we'll find ourselves out of another caretaker."

I walk into the kitchen, not wanting to hear Mother go on and on about her theories of why Palm lashes out. I find Palm sitting at the table, busily eating dice peaches, as usual, the food has found its way onto her chin, lips and cheeks.

Palm is my six year old cousin, who comes from the Japanese side of my family. She moved in with us four years ago after her own Mother died from cancer. Since then, she's been like a sister to me. Her real name is Inu, which is dog in Japanese, and because of that she doesn't like her name. So we just call her Palm, because of her little fascination with Palm trees.

My parents are still debating if Palm will stay with us permanently. I hope she does, she's already become more family to me then my own parents. But unfortunately for my parents, Palm has been diagnosed with Autistic disorder. It doesn't mean she's unintelligent, just mute, and extreme difficulty socializing and controlling her emotions, resulting in her acting out. But she has no problem with me.

"Hey, Palm tree," I say, leaning over her and wiping her face with a napkin. "It's the first day of school. Wish me luck."

Palm holds her delicate small arms out and gives me her usual adorable smile with her big grey anime like eyes sparkling extra. I love that smile.

"You want to give me a hug?" I ask her, knowing she does. The doctors always tell us the more interaction Palm gets, the better off she'll be.

Palm nods, and I hold her tiny frame in my arms, careful to keep her hands away from my hair. Palm may look like a fragile tiny like girl with doll like features, but don't let her appearance fool you, this kid could really do some damage.

When I straighten, Mother gasps. It sounds to me like a referee's whistle, halting my life. "Kendall, you can't go to school like that."

"Like what?"

She shakes her head and sighs in frustration. "Look at your shirt."

Glancing down, I see a large orange stain on the front of my white Calvin Klein top. Oops. Palms peaches. One look at Palms drawn face tells me what she can't easily put into words.

_Palm is sorry. Palm didn't mean to mess up your outfit._

"It's no biggie," I tell her, although in the back of my mind I know it screws up my "perfect" look.

Frowning, Mother wets a paper towel at the sink and dabs at the spot. It makes me feel like a two-year-old.

"Go upstairs and change."

"Mother, it's just peaches," I say, treading carefully so it doesn't turn into a full-blown yelling match. The last thing I want to do is making Palm feel bad.

"Peaches stain. You don't want people thinking you don't care about your appearance."

"Fine." I wish this was one of Mothers good days, the days she doesn't bug me about stuff.

I give Palm a kiss on the top of her little head, making sure she doesn't think the stain bothers me in the least. "I'll see ya after school." I say, attempting to keep the morning cheerful. "To finish our checkers tournament."

I run back up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. When I get to my bedroom, I check my watch.

Oh no.

It's ten after seven. I'm gonna be late picking up Erin. Grabbing a teal blue scarf out of my closet, I pray it'll work. Maybe nobody will notice the peach stain if I tie it just right.

When I come back down the stairs, Mother is standing in the foyer, scanning my appearance again. "Love the scarf."

Phew.

As I pass her, she shoves the muffin into my hand. "Eat it on the way."

I take the muffin. Walking to my car, I absently bite into it. Unfortunately it isn't Blueberry. My favorite. Its banana nut and the bananas are overdone.

It reminds me of myself—seemingly perfect on the outside, but the inside is all mush.

* * *

_**Kick's POV**_

"Get up Kick."

I scowl at my little sister, and bury my head under my pillow. There's no escape except the little privacy that a lone pillow can give.

"Leave me alone Bri," I say roughly through my pillow.

"I'm not kidding around with you. Mom told me to wake you, so you won't be late for school."

Senior year. Finally. I should be proud that I'll graduate but honestly I could care less. Since I never liked school to begin with, this is just a minor achievement. After graduation_ real_ life will start.

"I'm I'll dressed in my new clothes," Brianna's proud but muffled voice comes through the pillow. I don't even have to look to know she still prepping herself up.

"Good for you," I mumble.

"Mom said I should pour this pitcher of water on you if you don't get up."

Was privacy too much to ask for? I take my pillow and chuck it across the room. It's a direct hit. The water splashes all over her.

"_**KICK!**_" She screams at me. It felt like an earthquake was erupting from the way my room vibrated. "These were brand _new!"_

A fit of laughter is coming through the bedroom door. Brad, who claims himself as _the man of the house_, is laughing like a frick'in hyena. That is until Brianna jumps him.

Exasperating a sigh, I finally jump out of bed, running a hand through my bed hair as I walk towards them. If their gonna duke it out, I'd rather them do it in the hall and not mess up my room. I grab the back of Brad's shirt but trip on Brianna's leg and land on the floor with them.

Before I can regain my balance, icy cold water is poured on my back. Turning quickly, I catch Mom dousing us all, a bucket poised in her fist above us.

"Get up," She orders, her fiery attitude out in full force.

"Shit, Ma," Brad says, standing.

Mom takes what's left in her bucket, sticks her fingers in the icy water and flicks the liquid in Brads face. Brianna giggles and before she knows it, she gets flicked with water as well, will they ever learn?

"Anymore attitude, Brianna?" She asks.

"No, Mother," Brianna says, standing straight.

"You have any more filthy words to come out of that mouth of yours, Brad?" She dips her hand in the water as a warning.

"No, Mother," Echo's soldier number two.

"What about you Kick?" Her eyes narrow into slits as she focuses on me.

"What? I was trying to break it up," I say innocently, giving her my you-can't-resist-me smile.

She flicks water in my face. "That's for not breaking it up sooner. Now get dressed, all of you, and come down stairs for breakfast."

So much for my you-can't-resist-me smile. "You know you love us!" I call after her as she leaves the room.

After a quick shower, I walk back into my bedroom with a towel wrapped around my waist. I catch sight of a photograph of my old man on the top dresser.

_Dad…..._

I quickly shake my head as I grab and pull on my jumpsuit. When I reach for my helmet, I hear Mom's voice bellowing from the kitchen.

"Kick, come eat before the food gets cold."

"I'm comin'," I call back. Grabbing my helmet I leave the room. Brad's already chowing down on his breakfast when I enter the kitchen. I open the refrigerator and scan its contents.

"Kick, sit down,"

"Ma, I'll just grab—"

"You'll grab nothing, now sit. We're a family and were going to eat like one."

I sigh, close the refrigerator door, and sit beside Brad. Sometimes being a member of a close family has its disadvantages. But we weren't always close…Not until the day Dad died.

Mom places a heaping plate of bacon and eggs in front of me.

"Thanks…" I mutter, with my head down while I stare at the food in front of me.

Brad stops eating, "Hey! You better be grateful dillweed, Mom works hard for us," Brad points a thumb to himself," And as man of the house so do I, and what do you do around here?" He snarls, challenging me.

My muscles tense. I glare at the _so called_ designated man of the house. "I work too," I say through gritted teeth.

"Oh, yeah. Cause jumping through hoops as someone's grease monkey is _really_ helping out with supporting the family." He spats sarcastically.

I've had enough of Brad's mouth; he's gone too far. I stand, my chair scraping the floor. Brad follows and steps in front of me, closing the space between us. Now that I'm older—and taller—Brad knows all too well, that I could kick his a** just as well as he can kick mine.

"_BOYS_! Enough fighting for one day!" Our Mother pleads. At that moment, Brianna walks in—wearing completely new attire— she groans when she sees us. Brianna hates the fighting just as much as Mom, and desperately wishes things would go back to how it was before.

But that will never happen.

"If you hadn't let Dad die, things wouldn't be this way!"

"**BRADLY!"** Mom reprimands sharply. As she comes forward, but I get in-between them and grab my brother's collar.

"…!" I'm at a loss, because I have no comeback for that, I don't even want to think about that. But ever since Dad died, life in the Buttowski house was in chaos.

Mom was depressed, Brianna would always be locked in her room crying, Brad was pissed off at everything, and I …I think I was the worse. But after a while Mom finally pulled it together and got a grip on our lives. We were made into a closer family. In the Process she's gotten a hell of a lot tougher.

What single Mother wouldn't, when you have to juggle work and raise three out-of-control teenagers?

I release Brad's collar. "….." I still have nothing to say. He doesn't say anything either.

"Brad. Sit down." Mom orders from behind me.

"Sorry, Ma," Brad apologizes, than sits back down. I don't miss his expression as he starts to regret opening his big mouth.

Mom turns and opens the fridge, trying to hide her tears. Biscuits. She's worried about us. It's not only my last year in school but most likely at home too. So this year is either going to make us or break us.

I put on my helmet, needing to get out of here. I quickly give Mom a peck on the cheek with an apology for ruining breakfast, then step outside.

My eyes instantly land on my motorcycle; the paint job is the same colors as my jumpsuit. My veins fire up before I straddle on. I'm still peeved with Brad. For his information; I work two jobs. The first is my main priority, my career as a Daredevil is finally lifting off. It's a slow process, but I don't mind working hard for it. The second is just my back-up career plan.

I put on a heck of a show to the outside world, sometimes I even surprise myself.

I try to focus on starting my senior year at MellowBrook High, the here and the now. It's probably going to be difficult, but hey, I've been through worse.

Literally.

* * *

**How was it? I'm curious to know your opinions so I can see whether or not I should continue.**

**And for those of you who have never heard of Autistic Disorder, and have no idea what it means. Then go look it up. Because it's kind of hard to explain—or better yet! **

**Look up this name "Temple Grandin" who is a brilliant woman born with autism and **_**man,**_** she's just amazing. They even made a movie about her.^^ (Palms situation is similar to Temple's.)**


	2. Chapter 2

_**I'm alive. And I'm introducing MY OC in this chapter (what? everybody else has one). And now the next chapter.**_

* * *

**_Kendall's POV_**

"Dude. Pay more attention to the road then the mirror; I'd like to get there in one piece. Thank you very much." My best friend Erin says as I drive down the street toward our high school in my new silver convertible.

"_~Outward appearances means everything~."_ My mother taught me that motto, it's the sole reason I didn't comment about the BMW when my Dad gave me the extravagant birthday gift two weeks ago.

"Whatever you say," Erin says, holding her hand in the wind as we drive.

I met Erin the summer before we started High school, but we didn't hit it off until later. You could peg her as the cool tomboy rocker type, so I look a lot girlier when next to her. With her piercing emerald eyes and bright brunet hair that stops at her chin—covering her left eye and basically half her face. She's sporting her favorite ripped black tank top with a green and grey striped sweater over it, dark denim skinny jeans along with her usual lime green converse sneakers.

Erin mostly holds a no-nonsense attitude. She's chilled and laid-back around me, apathetic and blunt towards others. But can be very playful and funny at times. Even though were both different, I sometimes wonder how we became such great fiends

"You sure you're not just nervous about seeing Ronaldo again?" Erin asks nonchantly, picking her ear with her pinky. "A summer apart changes people y'know."

My gaze wanders to my heart-shaped picture of me and Ronaldo taped to my dashboard. "Distance makes the heart grow fonder," I throw back.

Erin's gaze finally shifts in my direction. She wasn't convinced, and secretly neither was I. Ronaldo only called a few times during the summer from his family's' cabin. But I don't know where our relationship stands now. He just got back last night.

"Nice jeans," Erin comments, eyeing my faded Brazilian pants. "I'll be borrowing them before you know it."

"My Mother hates them," I tell her, smoothing my hair at a stop light; "She says they look like I got them at a used clothing store."

"What's wrong with that?" Erin raises a brow. "Jeans are jeans, did you tell her that?"

"Yeah, like she'd even listen. She was hardly paying attention when I asked her about the new nanny."

No one understands what it's like at my house. Luckily, I have Erin. She might not understand, but she knows enough to listen and keep my home life confidential. Besides Ronaldo and my other best pal Matt, Erin is the only one who's met Palm.

She flips open my CD case. "What happened to the last nanny?"

"Palm pulled out a chunk of her hair."

"Ouch."

I drive into the Mellow Brook High School parking lot with my mind more on Palm than on the road. Suddenly Erin shouts "LOOK OUT!"

My wheels screech to a stop when I almost hit a guy on a motorcycle. I thought it was an empty parking space.

"Sorry!" I say loudly so I can be heard over the roar of the motorcycle. "It didn't look like anyone was in this spot."

Then I realize whose motorcycle I almost hit. The driver turns around. Angry steely eyes. Red, white and blue jumpsuit. I sink down into the driver's seat as far as I can.

_Oh, crap. It's Kick Buttowski._

"Sh** Kendall! I'd like to live to see graduation!" Erin hisses at me.

Kick is staring at me with his steely glare while putting the kickstand down on his motorcycle. Is he going to confront me? I was in no mood to deal with him right now.

I search for reverse, frantically moving the stick back and forth. Of course it's no surprise my Dad bought me a car with a stick shift without taking the time to teach me how to master drive the thing.

Kick takes a step toward my car. I glance at Erin, who catches my desperate look. She turns her gaze on the person I almost hit.

"Hey, if the "victim" bothers you that much want me to beat his ass?" she offers. If it had been anyone else, they would have thought she was joking and laugh, but knowing Erin, she's dead serious.

"NO! I can't get this darn car in reverse. I need help."

She turns back to Kick. "Well, you might want to get a move on, cuz he looks _pissed_." She leans back in her seat," Besides, I only know how to drive an automatic." Not really much help, but this is how Erin is in the morning. Or towards situations that don't really involve her.

Finally grinding into reverse, my wheels screech loud and hard as I maneuver backwards, narrowly hitting a pink sports car. "Watch it bi**!" A Latino girl yells, as she flips me the bird.

Clearly she missed the Road Rage Lecture in drivers ED.

"You watch it, Broad!" Erin raises from her seat, throwing her famous I-will-fuck-you-up stare at her. The girl, now frightened, speeds off. I search for another parking spot.

After parking in the west lot, far from a certain daredevil with a reputation that could scare off even the toughest Mellow Brook football players, Erin and I walk up the front steps of the school. Unfortunately, Kick and a few of his friends are hanging by the front doors.

"I got your back," Erin says casually, with her eyes shut and hands stuff in her front sweater pockets. She knows I can hold my own against anything, but stays by my side anyway. "Just walk past them and avoid making eye contact."

It's pretty hard not to when Kick steps in front of me and blocks my path.

"You're a lousy driver," Kick says with his husky deep voice and full-blown I-AM-THE-MAN stance.

The guy might look like an Abercrombie model with his lean ripped body and flawless face, but in _my_ case, his picture is more likely to be taken for a mug shot.

Yes, I used to have a crush on the guy back in middle school.

Ancient history.

It was only one-sided puppy love. Unrequited. I was twelve; children can't fully comprehend what love really is at that age. But what I _did_ comprehend was that Kick definitely did not share the same feeling. What was the point in liking someone who only hated you in return?

Thank goodness I moved on. I've changed now, maturing both emotionally and physically along with my faithful boyfriend, Ronaldo. What happened in the past stays in the past. There's no point in bringing it up. Not that I would even want to.

Kick's gaze slowly moves down my body, traveling the length of me before moving back up. It's not the first time a guy has checked me out, It's just that I've never had a guy like Kick do it so blatantly… and so up close. I can feel my face getting hot.

"Next time, watch where you're going," He says, his voice cool and controlled.

I square my shoulders and sneer at him, the same sneer I use when I want to push people away.

"Thanks for the tip."

"If you ever need a real man to teach you how to drive, I can give you lessons."

Catcalls and whistles from students who have gathered around us set my blood boiling.

"If you were a real man, you'd open the door for me instead of blocking my way," I snap, admiring my own comeback.

Kick steps back, pulls the door open, and bows. He's totally mocking me. He knows it, I know it. Everybody knows it. I catch a glimpse of Erin standing behind me; her face looks worn, as if she's in a routine that she wants to get over with.

"Jerk."

"Thanks."

"Why don't you do a stunt now and go ride off a cliff." I haughtily snap.

"I did that yesterday." He says crossing his arms, uninterested. Like he's getting bored. "Why don't you retake driving class so people can cross the streets safely?"

Now irritated, I lash out. "Why don't you stop living in a daredevil fantasy? It's fake. Just like you." Hoping my words sting I grab Erin's arm, and pull her toward the open door.

As I'm passing Kick, his right eye is twitching.

Now feeling triumph, I ignore the following whistle and catcalls when we walk into the school. But my little victory is short-lived.

"That was emotionally exhausting…" I sigh. Then turn to Erin. "Sorry I dragged you into it. Again."

She waves a hand. "It's cool; I'm used to it already."

Erin knows all about mine and Kick's history, and our childish rivalry. I first told her while we were eating take-out. But I didn't tell her about the crush.

Her only response is; she stops slurping her milkshake, turns to me. "Good to know." Then goes right back to slurping. Acting as if I only told her when my birthday is.

She didn't ask any questions or made any comments and dropped the subject. Already aware that I didn't like talking about it. Erin isn't nosy or the type to get into other people's business, especially when it doesn't concern her. She once said that she doesn't like prying into other peoples personal lives, because she doesn't like them prying into hers. And that's one of the things I love about her.

Suddenly pump about starting my last year at Mellow Brook High, I shake Erin's shoulders. "Were Seniors now," I say with the same enthusiasm the cheerleaders use for routines during football games.

"SO?"

"So, starting right now everything is going to be _p-e-r-f-e-c-t_."

The bell rings.

Erin starts walking down the hall. "If you mean having to watch you make-out with four-eyes then I'm gonna have the p-e-r-f-e-c-t funeral. With flowers and everything."

"Who died?" A voice from behind me asks.

I turn around. It's Ronaldo, blond hair bleached from the summer sun and a grin so large it takes up half his face. I run up and give him the biggest hug. He holds me tight, kisses me lightly on the forehead, and pulls back. "Who died?" He asks again.

"Nobody," I answer. "Forget about it. Forget everything except being with me."

"It's easy when you look so lovely." He kisses me again. I can hear Erin making light gagging noises behind me, but ignore it. I smile up at him, glad our summer apart hasn't changed our relationship.

Ronaldo drapes his arm around my shoulders as the front doors to the school open. Kick and his friends walk through.

Ronaldo's face scrunches up in disgust. "Why do they even_ bother_ coming to school?" Ronaldo mutters low so only I can hear. "The odds are, half of them will most likely drop out before the quarter of the year is over anyway."

My gaze briefly meets Kick's and a shiver runs down my spine. "I almost hit Clarence's motorcycle this morning," I tell Ronaldo once Kick is out of hearing range.

"You should have."

"_Ronaldo_." I chide.

"At least it would have been quite an exciting first day. This school is so dull, it's rather boring."

Boring?

I almost got in a car accident, was flipped off by a girl, and got harassed by my old rival outside of the schools front doors. If that was any indication of the rest of senior year, this school will be anything but boring.

* * *

**_Kick's POV_**

I knew I'd be called into the Principal's office at some point during the year, but I didn't expect it to be on the first day of school. So here I am, pulled out of gym so the new Principle can puff up his chest and ramble on about tougher school rules.

I detect him feeling me out, wondering how I'll react as he threatens me, "—and this year I've hired two full-time armed security guards, Clarence."

His eyes focus on me, trying to intimidate. Yeah, right. I can tell right off that Principle Greyson lived half his life sheltered and knows nothing about the bad parts in town. Maybe I should offer to give him a tour.

He stands in front of me. "I promised the superintendent as well as the school board I'd personally be responsible for rooting out any violence in this school. I won't hesitate to suspend anyone who ignores school rules."

I haven't done anything besides have a little fun with the officer of the fun police, and already this guy is talking suspension. Maybe he's heard about my bad reputation as a student here or my suspension last year. That_ little_ incident got me kicked out for a month. It wasn't my fault…entirely.

Ryder, a pal of mine from my stunt job—who also attends Mellow Brook High. Thought it would be hilarious if he filled the water filters with Cheetah Chug. I was arguing with him in the boiler room after he already done did it, then accidently shut down the hot water heaters when we got caught.

Since I had nothing to do with the matter, I tried making a break for it by riding my motorcycle down the hallway stairs during passing period. Breaking three windows in the process of my "great escape" but got blamed all the same. Ryder attempted to tell the truth, but our old Principle wouldn't listen. Maybe if I fought more he would have listened.

But what's the use in fighting for a lost cause?

It's clear Kendall Perkins is responsible for my being in here today. You think her jerk of a boyfriend will ever get called in here? No. Way.

Ronaldo is always pushing me, knowing he can get away with it. Every time I've been about to retaliate, he's found a way to escape or rush to where teachers were in abundance… Teachers who were just waiting for me to screw up.

One of these days…

I look up at Greyson. "I'm not starting any fights." I might finish one, though.

"That's good," Greyson says. "But I heard about you harassing a female student in the parking lot today."

Almost getting run over by Kendall's shiny new Beemer is_ my_ fault? For the past three years I've managed to avoid the stuck-up blond. I didn't need her drama added into my already hard enough life.

"Care to share with me what happened in the parking lot? I'd like to hear your side."

Not happening.

I learned long ago that my side doesn't matter. "The thing this morning… Total misunderstanding." I tell him_. Kendall's misunderstanding that two vehicles can't fit in one spot._

Greyson stands and leans over his polished desk. "Let's try not making misunderstandings a habit, okay, Clarence?"

"Kick."

"Huh?"

"I go by Kick," I declare. What he knows about me is in my school file, a file so biased it's probably ten inches thick.

Greyson nods his head. "Alright, Kick. Now get ready for sixth period. But I have eyes at this school, and I'm watching your every move. I don't want to see you back in my office."

Just as I get up, he puts a hand on my shoulder. "Just so you know, my goal is for every student in this school to succeed._** Every**_ student, Kick. Including you, so whatever biases you have about me you can throw them out the window. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal," I answer. Wondering how much I can believe him. In the hallway, a sea of students are rushing to their next class. I have no clue where I'm supposed to be and I'm still in my gym clothes.

In the locker room after I change out of my grey tank top and black shorts that reached my knees, the bell rings—indicating it's now sixth period. Before I put my helmet back on, I pull the schedule out of the back pocket of my jumpsuit.

Chemistry with Mrs. Carter. Great, another hard-ass to deal with.

* * *

**Hope it was worth the wait. If not. That's your problem. Now if you think Kick is a jerk, you're wrong, that was just Kick's tough guy exterior. He's still the same Kick we all know and love—mostly. He just hides it now, so nobody will view him as weak. So cut him some slack, he's been through a lot and when shit happens, it changes people. REMEMBER THIS!**

**Until next time! ;3**

**And now some reviews!**

_**Cathyfanamy:**__**Whoa! Something tells me this is gonna get good! :3 Especially, when I start to picture it as an anime.**_

_YES! YES! I THINK EVERYTHING IS SO MUCH __BETTER__ AS AN ANIME! If only my family would _understand my obsessions, hmm …

_**Hate Eater**_**:**_**Great story. Hopefully you post the next chapter soon enought .-. You're not the most responsable of all... However. I love you're story.. wish to see more.**_

_I AM TOO RESPONSIBLE…! Ok not really…BUT I'M WORKING ON IT!_

_**Luv u so much**__**:**__**i luv it ! n its a lot like my favorite book perfect chemistry ! i have all the books :)**_

_ Right back at cha dude! Cuz your right! I like that book too. After reading Perfect Chemistry, the main characters reminded me so much of Kick and Kendall—AND GAHHH! I COULDN'T GET IT OUT OF MY HEAD! And then __**it hit me**__! And thus this story was born._

_ Now, normally I'm not a fan of teen-drama romance stories, but... I got sucked in. So if you guys read the book or want to…There's your spoiler alert! Ha ha…_

_**DON'T JUDGE ME.**_

_**Lady Deredrum:**__**D'awww, make the next chapter! D: You're keeping me in suspense! That's bad. *creys***_

_ What's a good story without a little suspense? :P _

_Don't mean to sound rude hon, but I update when I update. I'm in college now, and I don't get much free time so I ask you guys be patient with me .But this story __**WILL**__ be finished someday._

_**8annie81:**__**What's Kicks job? I know it' probably not important, but I'm curious. Any way I hope you continue this. I think it's great both in plot and writting style**_**.**

_All following questions will be answered as the story progresses. If not, then I'll just answer. Though the plot isn't entirely mine…The writing err—"typing" style, however is all me. ^^_


End file.
